It is pitiful
The fact that the bar is where I find my pleasure.
Not for the alcohol, no not exactly.
But for the freedom it brings.
In the bar I am someone
I never could be.
In the bar I am seemingly
Happy.
How many ways can I say that I was not myself?
I was someone who I could only
Hope to be.
Someone that is not, never will be me.
How many times can I say how lovely it was?
How can I even begin to explain?
If I try I shall seem
Like a horrible person.
It is not for the alcohol,
But for what it can do.
How can I possibly explain the intensity of it all?
To be everything I am not.
Transformed in a night.
To crawl away from the monsters,
For just a few hours.
A happiness so fake, but even I was deceived.
Even I fell for the act.
I was complimented on my smile,
My up-beat attitude.
Kissed for my positivity.
My non-existent happiness.
I played it so well
That for a moment
Even I believed it
To be true.